You want something else, a voice in the back of my head supplies.
It’s the same unhelpful voice that drove me into my ex’s arms that night we met. The night filled with impulsive decisions that led to a short-lived marriage with someone I hardly knew.
But Logan is not my ex.
And this year, my same old plans don’t give me butterflies.
I’ve prepped so much that I have my interview answersmemorized. I can spend a couple hours acknowledging that I’m one year older.
I have no idea what Logan has in store. But just the thought of doing anything with him is enough to make me excited in a way that doesn’t instill fear. It inspires hope.
I delete F and retype my answer.
Logan sent a cryptic text in the late afternoon with a time and place:the Battery, 8 p.m. By the time I arrive at the corner he specified, he’s already there waiting. Located at the very bottom of Manhattan, the Battery is surrounded by water and, therefore, wind. A gust whips off the Hudson River, sending my hair flying as I wave hello.
“Surprise!” he says, opening the door to a glass, shell-shaped structure.
Inside is a sea-themed carousel with thirty or so glass fish figures with seats. The ceiling and walls are bathed in cobalt and teal, the swirly patterns giving me the feeling of being in a handblown glass paperweight. He’s brought me to the human equivalent of a fish tank. This must be how Goldie and Kurt feel.
“Where is everyone?” I ask, looking around. Every square inch of the floor is covered in balloons. On the other side of the glass, people walk with purpose in their hunched-over post-work-drinks commute.
“It’s just us,” Logan says. “And Sam, who will operate the ride, but he’ll be outside until I text him that we’re ready for a spin.” He spreads his arms. “Welcome to the SeaGlass Carousel!”
“I said I was okay with a surprise. I should’ve also said low cost,” I say, hesitation bubbling inside me. First, the firehouse. Now this. I step away from him. “Why did you do all this?” I’m not even trying to hide the emotion coming through in my voice. I try to swallow it down, which just makes my throat tighter.
“I didn’t think you’d want to spend your birthday with strangers and screaming children,” Logan explains. “I wanted to do something nice.”
“Are you doing this because I’m helping you? Because you don’t have to.” I shake my head. “This must’ve cost you a fortune.”
“Good thing I kind of have one?” he says. “This is what I want to spend my money on. You.” He tilts his head. “I’ve also been eyeing a nice, custom Japanese chisel set, but still. Mostly you.”
I’m still lingering near the door. If I step in, I commit to this… present? Gift? Those words don’t quite capture what this is. Extravagance? Overindulgence?
I don’t know what my face is doing, but Logan must sense my reluctance. He steps closer and says, “Birthdays are supposed to be big.”
I cross my arms. “That’s not how my birthdays have been.”
“Maybe that needs to change.”
“Let me pay for half.”
“Half of what?”
“Half of this,” I say, waving toward a giant, glowing fiberglass fish.
“Seriously? No,” he says. “This is part of your gift.”
Part of ?I don’t want to be this way or ruin tonight. But I also don’t want Logan spending all his money on me. I tell him this.
The excitement in Logan’s face dulls. I hate to be the one who caused it.
“I understand,” he says, “and I’m sorry if this is excessive. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“This just… it isn’t why I’m spending time with you. I don’t need fancy things.”
“I mean, I’m glad you’re not into me for my money,” he says, shifting to his other foot, “but I don’t know, it’s the first time I’ve had excess money in a while. I mostly prefer to spend my money on other people and experiences, not stuff.”
It is his money. He can do what he wants with it. Even if that means spending it on me.
